


can't deny i'm begging for attention

by soundandfury (supercellbreath)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, CEO Wu Yifan, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Minor Byun Baekhyun/Kim Jongdae | Chen, Minor Lu Han/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, Minor Oh Sehun/Park Chanyeol, Secretary Kim Jongin, Unrequited Crush, Unresolved Sexual Tension, an almost criminal amount of thirst, excessive mentioning of coffee and wonton noodles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 20:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11471334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercellbreath/pseuds/soundandfury
Summary: It’s only the beginning of May, and CEO Wu Yifan is both cursing Do Kyungsoo and seriously questioning his own self-preservation instincts in regards to hiring Kim Jongin as his personal secretary.





	can't deny i'm begging for attention

**Author's Note:**

> written for prompt #060, for [kumjongin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kumjongin/pseuds/kumjongin)!! title of this fic is taken from the song stop desire by tegan and sara 
> 
> to the prompter - uhhhh so like i went a little too far with this? i'm so sorry, i'm sure you were just looking for a short pwp but you get this long-ass mess. it kind of just ballooned into this huge thing, but i did get the desk sex in at least, so that's something at least? i hope you enjoy this fic,,, 
> 
> to the mods - thank you for your patience as i tripped over the deadline and fell flat on my face lmao,, thank you for hosting this fest and letting me write for this underrated rarepair,, here's to a successful fest and more kairis fics to come!
> 
> to my dear galaxy birb babe, who read this whole mess through for me and held my hand throughout the writing process, thank you and ilu bb <3<3<3
> 
> lastly, to the readers, thank you for taking the time to click on this long dumb office au. disclaimer: this writer knows nothing about how actual offices work, much less at a fashion house. hopefully you'll enjoy reading this (´ ᴗ｀✿)

“You’re killing me here, ‘Soo,” Yifan bemoans, head hung low.

“It’s the start of January, you hopeless dramatic ass. I still have two weeks before I transfer over. It’s not like I’m leaving for another country,” Kyungsoo says, deadpan, shuffling a small tower of folders and binders into neat order. “I’m literally only going to be moving down one floor. And you promised me you’d get me into the IT department when you hired me, remember?”

“That was before I realised how good of a secretary you are,” Yifan whines. “Stay with me. Organise my meetings and do my powerpoints for me forever. I’ll get you a lifetime supply of knives, or whatever it is you like to murder people with in your spare time.”

“And keep putting up with all the other heads of department constantly hollering out of their asses at you through me? I might be tempted to use them, and that would be a poor long-term decision,” Kyungsoo says. “You wouldn’t want to get your favourite executive assistant a lifetime imprisonment sentence, would you?”

“It’d be worth it,” Yifan grumbles, sighing. “All jokes aside, Kyungsoo, I really do hope IT treats you well. If Junmyeon ever stops showering you with the highest praise and affection, call me and I’ll come kick his ass.”

“If he ever stops being embarrassing it’ll be when he’s dead.” Kyungsoo scoffs, but the tips of his ears burn pink softly. Yifan stifles a grin for fear of his tiny ex-secretary punching him in the gut. They’ve been friends for a long time now, and he’s glad the younger’s found someone who can get past his grumpiness and reach his soft squishy heart.

“Anyways, have you made your pick as to my replacement?” Kyungsoo asks, quickly changing the subject, reaching for his tablet and flicking through the candidate files. “There’s a lot of people looking for a nice job like secretary to the CEO of a fashion house. You can’t keep dragging your heels like this.”

Yifan sighs. “Most of the potential secretaries within the company are just money-hungry and I think half of them have tried to get into my pants. And the people who have shown up for interviews don’t seem like the type I’d get along with. I don’t really like my odds at the moment.”

“What about Jung Nari?” Kyungsoo suggests. “She’s about as organised as I am.” Coming from Kyungsoo, that’s a damn compliment.

Yifan shakes his head. “Pretty sure Yixing would kill me if I tried to swipe his secretary. He owes his ass to that girl.”

Kyungsoo taps on the screen. “Song Taehyeon?”

“The new intern? He’s sweet, but he’s clumsy as hell and these carpets are expensive, Kyungsoo.”

“Fair point. What about Lee Mina?”

“I was actually considering her but. Just yesterday she dropped her file and bent over in front of me, wearing a pencil skirt.” Yifan kneads his temples, soothing the headache that pops up when he thinks of the incident. “I didn’t need to see the panty lines that I saw, Kyungsoo, but I did.”

Kyungsoo hums, making a sound of distant sympathy. “Well, if you haven’t made your mind up yet…” he trails off. “I don’t usually ask for things like this, but. A friend of mine has been looking for work. Kim Jongin.”

Yifan raises an eyebrow. “I don’t even know this friend of yours. Can this person be trusted?”

Kyungsoo cracks a smile at that. “Jongin’s one of the sweetest, most loyal people I know. He’s worked his ass off to get through life. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him give up on something he wanted to do. He’s organised, he’s young and bright, he’s reliable as hell. And he makes some amazing coffee.”

Yifan wouldn’t give in this easily for anyone else - but this is Do Kyungsoo. If he didn’t think that this friend of his was up to the task, he wouldn’t have suggested them in the first place. And really, after a pitch as heartfelt as that (from _Kyungsoo_ of all people), Yifan would regret not giving them a shot.

“Can you get Jongin in for an interview within the week? I’ll meet him personally and decide.”

Kyungsoo’s lip quirks up in the smirk he always makes when he’s got his way on something. “Oh, I don’t think I’ll have any problems doing that.”

 

-

 

It’s only the beginning of May, and Yifan is both cursing Do Kyungsoo and seriously questioning his own self-preservation instincts in regards to hiring Kim Jongin as his personal secretary.

It’s not that Jongin is a _bad_ secretary. Quite the opposite, actually - despite his youth and his clumsiness, he’s hardworking and reliable, and though often sleepy he’s always bright and sweet, a warm kind of cheer that makes his droopy eyes glow and calms Yifan’s own frazzled nerves uncannily well. He brews a mean cup of americano, especially after some input from Yifan as to how he usually likes his morning coffee, and whatever Yifan asks him to carry out he usually achieves with flying colours and with no complaint. Maybe he’s not the most tech-savvy secretary out there, but it’s clear as to why Kyungsoo recommended him to fill his position, though he’s definitely not the same level of obsessively organised or homicidally inclined as the elder. (Jongin was trained into organisation - Kyungsoo was _born_ into it.)

But this is the sixth time this week Jongin’s dropped his papers all over the floor and bent over, slowly, tantalizingly, to pick it up. His desk is just outside Yifan’s office, and never before has he so strongly regretted (or felt more thankful for) his office’s frosted glass walls, offering him only the bare silhouette of his sweet secretary bending down. Yifan’s awful perverted brain is more than capable of filling in the gaps with vivid memories of every other time Jongin’s ass has been in view.

Yifan drags his eyes away from the glass, burying his face in his hands and doing his level best to think bland and unsexy thoughts, instead of fantasizing about biting into that perfect bubble butt. It’d been okay in the winter, when everyone was wearing extra layers, and Jongin was constantly bundled up in sweatervests and jackets and he didn’t yet have a chance to show off his summer wardrobe. Sure, the constant rosy cheeks and knitted articles of clothing had been highly detrimental to his blood sugar level, especially accompanied by Jongin’s initial shyness and and tendency to blush cutely at the smallest things, but it mostly just grabbed him by his heart and not his dick, and Yifan’s heart has long developed a hard outer shell to protect himself from such attacks against his soft gooey inner self.

As spring had marched on and warmth returned to the city, though, Jongin casually shed his thick jackets and sweaters for thigh-hugging pants and a wide array of fitted shirts and ties, all of which put his body on display in ways that had heads turning and mouths drooling. Yifan distinctly recalls how office gossip at the beginning of April swung immediately from Lu Han and Yixing’s latest sexcapade to the CEO’s secretary’s perky butt the day that Jongin walked into the building with chinos and faded blue skinny jeans on, and the whole of the Andromeda International building was made aware as to just how indecently attractive the newbie secretary was. Try as he might to deny it, Yifan has to admit - Kim Jongin is probably the hottest piece of ass in the office, and everyone knows it but the boy himself.

The worst part is how completely goddamn oblivious he is. Yifan’s lost count of the number of times he’s bit his lip and shifted uncomfortably because Jongin was popping out his ass or cocking his hip or crossing his arms in the way that makes his shirts stretch taut across his chest and magically summons a semi from every queer man in the vicinity - which is a substantial percentage of the office population. He moves like sin and he oozes sex, but then he opens his mouth innocently and reveals his own purity, utterly unaware of the trail of awkwardly turned on office workers he leaves in his wake. It’s the most devastating combination possible.

“Boss, I - are you alright?”

Speak of the devil. Yifan drops his palms from his face, straightening up and running a hand through his silver hair as Jongin stands there in the open door with a file of papers and his ever-present journal in hand. He fixes his eyes firmly on his secretary’s face and definitely not on his thighs. “It’s nothing, just stress,” he says smoothly. “Come in, don’t just stand there like that.”

The younger man bites his lip as he shuts the door behind him and walks up to Yifan’s desk, brows knitting together. “You need to get more rest, boss.”

Yifan cracks a smile. “That’s a pretty funny thing for _you_ to be saying, Jongin.”

Jongin cocks his head and pouts, fluffy brown fringe falling in his face. It’s infuriatingly adorable. “Boss, there’s no need to be mean, I’m just stating the truth. You don’t have to bring _that_ into this,” he whines. “I worry, that’s in my job description.”

The CEO laughs. “Stop worrying about my sleep and worry more about the meetings I have this week instead. Now, I think you came in for something?”

Jongin blinks and nods, sliding back into a professional demeanour, placing the file on the table. “These are all the files you asked for regarding SM Industries. I also finished up the presentation slides for the stockholder meeting next week. I sent you a link in your e-mail, along with the presentation notes. Also, Ms. Oh from OH&Co. wants to meet up with you to discuss the campaign for the new spring line. I’ve put her in for Monday morning, she wouldn’t accept any later.”

“The best way to start a Monday.” Yifan takes the file and leafs through it quickly, a grimace twisting his lips, because Ms. Oh will definitely pitch him an advertising campaign worthy of the label, but she’s probably going to try to talk him into dating her daughter too, as she always does. She’s a nice woman, but her conviction in her goal to get Yifan with Joohyun is frankly terrifying.

Jongin shrugs apologetically, and not even the sight of his firm chest flexing can make Yifan feel better. “I can reschedule it for you if you’d like, boss, but at least if you get it out of the way early you get to relax for the rest of Monday?”

The CEO sighs, because Jongin’s completely right, but the very thought of facing down Ms. Oh first thing on a Monday makes him shiver with dread. “Let’s go with it,” he agrees, reshuffling the papers back into order and setting it aside to go through later. “Anything else?”

“Um. Do you feel like chicken today? Because I’m going to get some.” Jongin smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

His dimples are so fucking cute and his lips so plump and bitten-red, Yifan wants to just reach out and pull his face in to _kiss_ \- _no, bad Yifan, self-control, Jongin is your goddamn secretary for crying out loud, you’re not that gross_ , he berates himself. “Your love for chicken is frankly unparalleled,” Yifan says instead, then blinks, stopping in his tracks. “Oh, it’s lunchtime already?”

Jongin laughs. “It’s 1 o’clock, boss. You need to get out of your office and breathe some unfiltered, toxic city air.”

“When you put it like that, I’ll happily stay in my nice cushy office, thanks.” Yifan rearranges the papers in front of him to disguise his jittery hands, feeling a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck. “I’ll take some of whatever you’re getting. I’m going to be working through lunch, so just drop off the takeout on my desk.”

“Boss, c’mon. You’ve been working the whole morning.” Jongin frowns. “We have Yixing as Director of Design as a reason, you don’t have to go through every single thing Lu Han and company send in.”

Yifan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “With the new season coming in, the designers have all apparently been taken by the Rapture of Inspiration,” he comments wryly. “Yixing’s filtered out a lot, but there’s some actual quality designs being sent in, and whatever he picks out I have to refine and file down. And this _is_ everything he’s sent in.”

Jongin raises his eyebrows, eyes wide. Understandable, considering the small mountain of papers sitting in front of him right now. “I’ll go get you some jjajangmyeon,” he says. “And, before I go. Coffee or tea?”

The CEO grins. “What do you think, Jongin?”

The younger pouts. “Nothing new? Not even going to attempt to change it up? We’ve got a shiny new coffee maker. It does green tea lattes and caramel lattes and these really nice cappuccinos.”

Yifan smiles innocently. Jongin giggles, rolling his eyes. “One americano with extra creamer and sugar, coming right up for the boss man.”

“And that’s how you earn your paycheck,” Yifan hums. Jongin laughs, shaking his head as he turns away to walk out the door, hips swaying. Fuck, his thighs look absolutely fantastic in his slacks, Yifan wants to _bite into them,_ ugh.

Every day his distraction grows, and the urge to jump his secretary’s ass becomes even louder, fused with the quiet blooming of romantic attraction. Yifan is so fucked.

 

-

 

“And this is an problem...how?” Baekhyun raises an eyebrow.

“Why do I talk to you about these things,” Yifan says, muffled by the palm he has pressed against his face.

It’s a Sunday morning, the sunlight spilling in through the glass windows of Café Papillon and filling the cafe with bright warm light, bouncing off the younger’s wine-red hair to give him a little halo, illuminating every flyaway strand of hair on his evil little head. The familiar scent of coffee grounds, fragrant and bittersweet, fills the whole room with its strength and saturates his lungs with the comforting taste of home. It’s a slow day and peak hour has passed, letting Yifan and Baekhyun have some privacy to talk, in the corner booth that Baekhyun has basically claimed for himself to use and abuse as he wishes any time any of his friends come by.

“No, I’m serious, how is this even considered a problem, you repressed socially awkward man-child,” Baekhyun leans forward, looking utterly serious. “He’s hot and available. Just fuck him.”

“You’re the worst, do you know that. The actual worst,” Yifan mutters. “I can’t just ‘fuck him’, he’s my fucking _secretary_ . I know things like basic human decency and politeness don’t exist for you, Baek, but there’s this thing called _abuse of power_? You may have heard of it?”

“I’d let Jongdae abuse his power over me any day,” Baekhyun chirps, and of course. Why did Yifan even expect anything else from him.

“Can you control your demon boyfriend please,” Yifan calls, raising his voice and turning towards the counter.

Jongdae, leaning against the cash register, just flashes a curly little smile and shrugs, giving a ‘what can you really do?’ pose. “You should just accept by now that Baek does what he wants. Whether or not it’s socially appropriate in any form.” Chanyeol snorts audibly from his position in front of the French press, where he’s brewing himself a cup and idly texting someone on his phone. It’s probably his boyfriend, knowing Chanyeol’s hopelessly romantic ass.

“What the boytoy said,” Baekhyun sings, blowing a little air kiss towards his boyfriend, who pretends to catch it with a palm and makes a mock-surprised face before pressing the ‘caught’ kiss against his cheeks. Baekhyun swoons a little. They’ve been together for six fucking years now and they’re still like this constantly. Sometimes, Yifan really questions why he’s friends with these assholes.

“Baekhyun, please.” Yifan groans, pinching the bridge of his nose and screwing his eyes shut. “I’m not about to go and ask my secretary to bang. First of all, power hierarchy makes even asking him to date me very. Complicated. Secondly, it would be very troublesome if the relationship went wrong in any way, especially since I hired him directly into his current position. Reshuffling him out would get messy. Thirdly, I’m reasonably sure fucking my assistant violates _some_ sort of code of conduct in relation to _being a decent boss_.”

Baekhyun gives a dramatic sigh, propping his head up in one hand. “You are the only CEO I know who’s ever tried to turn down the chance to fuck a hot secretary. Whose name I still don’t know, by the way.”

“If I gave you his name, you’d start stalking him on every social media platform imaginable, and no-one deserves that level of attention from you.” Baekhyun mutters something along the lines of _Jongdae likes my attention_ under his breath. Yifan sips his coffee to give him strength. “And. Baek. I’m the only CEO you know in _real life_.”

“Well, yes, but you’re like. The least sleazy CEO I can think of that exists. There’s, like, a CEO Sleaze Scale from one to ten - with one being Hardworking Asexual Busy Bee and ten being Dirty Rich Old Pervert  - and you are a _solid_ negative twelve, my friend..” Baekhyun leans forward, now with both palms pressed against his cheeks in a pose that would appear cute to anyone who didn’t know Baekhyun. “You work non-stop, you stay in every night, I don’t think I’ve seen you fuck someone in fifteen years-”

Yifan sputters, “You’ve only _known_ me for _eight years_ Byun-”

“-you’re _hilariously_ gentlemanly and a total fucking pushover. How are you even surviving in the business world.” The barista shakes his head back and forth sadly. “A tragedy, really. But that’s not the important takeaway here!” He waggles a finger back and forth in the air like he’s trying to imitate a dance move. “The real thing you need to remember is that your Best Friend Baek knows Best. And Best Friend Baek says that _you_ need to go get fuckin’ _laid_.”

Yifan - Yifan doesn’t even have words at this point. Why does he put up with this.

“I don’t-”

“DETAILS,” Baek interrupts loudly, waving a hand in the air in an imperious fashion. “Whatever you were about to say? Not relevant. What is _important_ here is that you’re a pent-up, stressed-out hot piece of ass with a thing for twinks and thighs. There’s at least twenty people I know of who’d happily let you take our your sexual frustrations on them.” Yifan gazes at the ceiling and silently thanks merciful God that the only other people in the vicinity are Jongdae and Chanyeol at the counter, both by now having gained a degree of imperviousness to Baekhyun’s tendency to loudly blurt out obscenities in public.

Yifan sighs. “Baek, look. I just want to get over this stupid crush in a _calm_ and _dignified_ manner, that doesn’t involve me having a string of one-night stands. I don’t do that kind of thing anymore.”

“You don’t do it but you sure as fuck need it,” Baekhyun frowns. He actually looks serious now. “Look. I understand what you’re saying. Can’t relate at all, but I understand. But the best way to get over someone is to form a new emotional attachment with someone else. I’m definitely saying that you should go out and get fucked, but even just going out with like. Regular People would help. When was the last time you even went on a date?”

Yifan shifts in his seat. “Um.”

Baekhyun snorts. “Okay, no, I remember. Two years ago, mint-green haired twink who was a music producer, who you went out with for like a month before you broke it off because both of you were married to your jobs.”

Baekhyun’s encyclopedic knowledge of all of his social circle’s love lives is never not terrifying. Yifan sighs for what feels like the umpteenth time. “Yoongi and I agreed we were better off as friends and we parted on friendly terms. We still talk now. I don’t really see why this is a problem?”

“The problem isn’t you and your ex still being friends. The problem is that you haven’t gone out with anyone in literal _years_ , Yifan. You’re mooning over your hot secretary and you’re too much of a nice guy to even try to ask him out or anything.” Baekhyun flutters his lashes at him, in that way he always does when he’s trying to convince people to agree to his terrible plans. “Let me organize a blind date for you? C’mon, it’s about time you started seeing someone new.”

Yifan bites his lip, drinks more of his coffee. Baekhyun does have a point. And, well, it has been a significant amount of time since he last had a boyfriend in his life.

“Fine,” he acquiesces. “One date. And if it doesn’t work out, you don’t pressure me to go out with a new one.”

“Fine by me.” Baekhyun practically beams. “Gimme a few weeks. I’ll find someone _perfect_ for your flat workaholic ass. Moving on from this, though, I heard from Kyungsoo about Yixing doing a strip show for the whole bar last Friday?”

Oh god, Kyungsoo’s been tattling about their drunk karaoke session. Jongdae and Chanyeol both visibly perk up from the counter, glancing over and starting to put down their things. They’re all suckers for gossip, honestly.

Yifan grins despite himself. That gives him free reign to spill about the entirety of the night. “So it started when Yixing got the bartender to break out the plum wine…”

 

-

 

There is no day of the week that Yifan has come to dread more than Fridays.

What was once the high point of his week has become the bane of his productivity, because Casual Fridays are when office dress code loosens up and Jongin feels free to come to work in his everyday wardrobe, which seems to consist of a endless supply of horrendously flattering shirts and obscenely tight skinny jeans.

Fridays used to be his time to side-eye all of his underlings and coworkers with Kyungsoo and laugh over their fashion choices, and the one day of the week where he could lounge around in his classy office in comfortable clothes. Now, Yifan barely ever gets anything done on Fridays - whenever he manages to actually get into his work, Jongin finds some reason to waltz into his office and pester him, completely derailing his higher thought functions with sweet smiles and sinfully supple thighs.

 _Lord give me strength,_ Yifan thinks grimly to himself, his traitorous eyes glued to the motions of Jongin’s perfect legs, encased in faded ripped denim, every single movement making the muscles in his thighs and calves flex and the rips in his jeans strain and expose new, untouched, golden skin for his eyes to devour. Today the jeans are _extra_ tight - practically vacuum-sealed onto his goddamn, God-given legs. Mercifully, his soft pink shirt is loose and airy, but his long sleeves unfortunately open up the risk of the dreaded Paws, which fortunately has been temporarily averted by Jongin rolling up his sleeves because of the heat. This, however, has opened up the new pressing issue of Jongin's forearms, golden and strong, muscles shifting as he moves around -

“Boss?”

Yifan jerks himself out of his stupor at the soft voice, raising his gaze to meet Jongin’s sleepy gaze. “Sorry, what were you saying, Jongin?”

“I was saying that the new wonton noodle shop down the road does takeout, and what do you want for lunch?” Jongin shifts his gaze from Yifan’s eyes down to his phone, squinting at the screen. “They do different flavours of wontons, apparently. They’re supposed to be really good. I just sent you a picture of the menu, check your phone.”

Yifan obligingly reaches over his desk and opens up his own phone, reading through Jongin’s punctuation-free and typo-filled messages and doing his damndest to not let his eyes slide back down to Jongin’s perfect, perfect thighs - and fuck, he’s back here again, eyeing the way the holes stretch when Jongin shifts his weight from one foot to another. If Jongin ever wore shorts into the office, Yifan would probably die an ungraceful but euphoric death.

“I think the steamed chicken set looks pretty good, don’t you?” Jongin asks.

Yifan pinches his own thigh hard and turns his attention back to lunch, still thoroughly distracted and flailing inside. “Um, I’unno, whichever set is the recommended one?”

“Bo-oss,” Jongin repeats, a whine building up in his voice. “There is no recommended set. Don't try and cop out like that," he pouts. "C'mon, just pick something!"

Yifan snorts, trying to shake away the dirty thoughts without actually shaking any part of his head and giving himself away. "Alright, alright, you child. Give me a moment to breathe. I'll take the -" he pauses, scanning the menu, "-the sesame chicken wontons. And some of the chocolate banana wontons as well." He pauses, blinks. "Wow, that is pretty cool. Dessert wontons."

"Yeah!" Jongin beams widely, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I dropped by there after work yesterday to try them out and they are! Fantastic! I should actually take you there to eat, they're amazing when they're fresh, and they use an air fryer to cook them so they're really crisp..."

Yifan props his head up on one hand, watching Jongin babble on with a growing fondness curling up in his chest. Thinks about resisting. "Why don't you actually take me down there one of these days and we can try them for lunch?" Gives in to temptation.

Jongin stops in his tracks, looking straight at him, wide-eyed. He presses one hand over his heart. "Boss, is that - are you suggesting that you actually leave your office at lunchtime?"

Yifan lets out a groan, but his lips curve into a smile despite himself. "I don't pay you to sass me, Jongin. Yes, I am suggesting that we go out and have lunch." He grimaces at the stack of papers on his right. "After I finish up with a few more of these designs."

There's a pause in the conversation for a moment. Yifan looks up, puzzled, and finds Jongin utterly still, eyes wide, cheeks flushing red and spreading up to the tips of his ears, his jaw a little slack and his plush lips just slightly agape. "Jongin, you okay with that?"

Jongin blinks, nodding quickly, fiddling with a rolled up sleeve. “Um, yeah, yeah, sure! I just. Wasn’t expecting that.”

“What, me wanting to go out for lunch for once?" Yifan jokes, taking another paper off the pile of designs to go through. "I know I'm a hermit, but I do enjoy seeing the sun sometimes."

"I-I don't doubt that," Jongin replies, voice squeaking adorably. He sounds a little hoarse - is he drinking enough water? "Not at all. Just. Surprised? I don't think I've seen you leave the building before five PM in months."

"I feel like I should call that a gross overstatement," Yifan sighs, "But you're probably right."

When Yifan looks back at Jongin, he's unrolled the sleeve on one arm all the way down, the extra rumpled length of the sleeve smothering his hand near entirely apart from his delicate fingertips. _Sleeve paws,_ Yifan thinks, and curses internally at how fucking fast his heart melts at the mere sight of it.

"We got off-topic," Jongin mutters, flushed, squinting back at his phone screen. "So. Um. Sesame chicken wontons, right? And the chocolate banana ones too. What noodles do you want with 'em?"

"Charcoal," Yifan replies on autopilot, mind still in convulsions at the image of Jongin's fingers peeking out from his sleeve. God he's so fucking weak.

"M'kay," Jongin hums, composure returning to him quickly, and raises the phone to his ear. "I'll call ahead so it'll be all ready when we get there. Better work fast, boss!" He chirps, cheerily.

"Why am I accepting this pressure from my own assistant," Yifan comments wryly. His motivation, however, has been stoked high, and he manages to race through another four designs by the time Jongin's done with the phone call.

The walk down the road is comfortable, the blazing June sun overhead blocked out by the clouds, traffic along the road more quiet than it usually is at this hour. Jongin grins up at him as they walk and talk, skipping over cracks in the pavement and rambling on about his three puppies - his babies, from how he coos over them - and pointing out random things in the environment that Yifan had never noticed before, like the graffiti war on the wall outside of the 7-11, or the bevy of new cafes and shops that had risen and then fallen just as quickly. Jongin, with his droopy eyes and his sleepy gait, is one of the most startlingly observant people that Yifan knows.

The restaurant is on the second floor of a shoplot, and as the din of a bustling establishment fills Yifan's ears as Jongin quickly explains their prior booking to the waiter and they're led to a table. The walls are painted muted teal and covered with 70's style Chinese posters and newspaper cuttings, the windows letting in bright daylight, helping to illuminate the room. The tables are all clustered near the walls, with booth seats and chairs alike all occupied by chattering hungry customers.

"It's pretty busy right now," Jongin explains, peering around the space as he sits down, sun and artificial light both bouncing off the apples of his cheeks and shining off of his tousled dark hair.  "This one popular food blog did a really good review of them for their opening, and so everyone's been coming by to check them out. Apparently the cook’s really famous in Malaysia - Ah!" Jongin makes a pleased sound, face lighting up as the waiter returns with a tray stacked high with bowls, rubbing his hands together in excitement as the food is laid out before them. Yifan's heart aches. He's so, so cute.

Jongin then takes his pair of chopsticks, plucks a strand of noodle, brings it to his lips. And slurps it.

Oh, _no_.

Yifan's thoughts veer off in a completely different direction, way down, slipping straight into the fiery pits of hell where bosses who think Bad and Perverted Thoughts about their subordinates go. He watches Jongin eat his single piece of noodle in a frozen state, enraptured as the tail end of it disappears between the younger man's plush lips, tongue darting out right after as he gives a happy little sigh.  "Ah, that's good noodles right there," he hums, cheery. "It tastes delicious, boss. Let's eat well!"

"Let's eat well," Yifan answers, smiling, and takes his utensils in hand with only the slightest of trembles. _Maybe that was just a fluke,_ he thinks, in a tone teetering a little on the edge. _He can't possibly make eating_ noodles _sexy, right?_

It's not a fluke. Jongin eats the entirety of his goddamn bowl this way, lifting strands of wonton noodles to his lips and sucking them down like he's trying to audition for a foodplay porno. His forearms, golden and exposed, flex tantalisingly with every motion that he makes, and the too-wide collar of his shirt keeps shifting, flashing sharp collarbones and driving Yifan mad. Sometimes he lowers the noodles straight into his open, waiting, infuriatingly sinful mouth, like he's trying to fucking deepthroat his goddamn wonton noodles. Yifan's not even safe with the wontons - Jongin feels some completely unprecedented need to nibble at them infuriatingly slowly, peeling off the skin with his teeth, licking his lips obscenely and moaning under his breath, just loud enough for Yifan to hear across the table and get hot under his collar. The bits of char siew, at least, he pops into his mouth whole, thankfully for Yifan's poor sanity.

Yifan's basically shovelling his food into his mouth on autopilot at this point, eyes constantly darting back to Jongin's One-Man Noodle Savoring Show despite how hard he tries to drag them away. He stares at the pin-up cheongsam-clad girls on the posters on the walls, begging them for an end to this torment - one that they can’t give, because even if he’s not looking at him. _It’s still happening_. Does he even know what he's doing? He swears there are people from other tables staring at them, whether in lust or disgust he doesn't know. At least the wonton noodles are good.

Mercy comes when Jongin finally finishes eating, having picked the bowl clean of every last morsel, and when he sets his bowl down at last Yifan breathes a sigh of relief. " _Ahhhh,_ that was _so good_ ," Jongin sighs, red-cheeked, letting out a moan of contentment, smacking his shining oil-slick lips and god _damn_ it, Yifan really shouldn’t find the idea of kissing his greasy lips as alluring as he does. "I'm really glad you came out with me today, boss."

Yifan chuckles. "I'm glad I got to come with you," he responds, because it is true. The restaurant is cozy and atmospheric, and the food is well made, even if Yifan had to Suffer while he tried to enjoy it. "It makes a nice change of pace, not eating lunch in my office."

"Boss, that sounds really depressing." Jongin leans forward, looking into Yifan's eyes with his sparkling gaze, a grin pulling at his lips. "This is just proof you need to get out more. Soak in some sun, breathe in that fine city air, eat good food!"

"I’ll try and make these trips out more often, no need to harass me," Yifan looks away and hums, sipping at his water. "This has definitely helped convince me. And if nothing else, I'm going to get you to order takeout from here much, much more often."

" _Ahhh_ , but it's such a long walk! And in the summer! You'd make your poor tired secretary walk all this way just for some wontons? You're mean, boss," Jongin pouts, before breaking into a giggle. Yifan’s heart throbs painfully strong.

 _You're worse, you menace,_ Yifan thinks to himself, and downs the last of his drink, letting the iciness wash through him and quench his thirst.

 

-

 

A Saturday evening in June, two weeks later, the light of the setting sun cascading through the tinted windows of Yifan’s CEO office, casting two figures in gold and blue hues.

“Oh, and Yixing wants to have another meeting to go through the details of the new line with you. He was suggesting dinner.” Jongin’s lips twist, slightly, jutting out in a pout that just makes Yifan melt inside. “At the Marianne.”

Yixing doesn’t usually call meetings over food unless he really wants to talk to Yifan about something. They’ve known each other for this long that the routine is familiar. “When’s the earliest that I’m free for a nice fancy dinner?”

Jongin hums, flipping through his planner. Yifan’s asked him before, why he keeps up both a physical and digital planner when it’s double the work - Jongin’s response was that it makes him less reliant on his phone. The real answer, of course, is that Jongin is terrible with smartphones. “You’re open Friday night, if that’s alright.”

Yifan nods. “Have it be then. Oh, and let him know that if he tries to pay this time, I’ll throttle him.”

Jongin raises an eyebrow.. “I don’t think he’s really going to take that as a deterrent, boss.”

Yifan grins. “You’re right, the day that Yixing decides that no is an acceptable answer is the day that Luhan asks him to actually try and not fuck at work for once,” he says wryly. Jongin laughs at that, the evening sun threading through his dark hair and casting his outline in soft gold, light radiant in his half-moon eyes and making his dimples all the more prominent. “Can I ask you to make an appropriately threatening statement for me?”

Jongin chokes out a final giggle, nodding. “I’m not really good at that, but I’ll try?”

Yifan smiles, reaching over the desk and ruffling his hair. “I trust you to do your best.”

Jongin flushes, looking down and making himself busy by scribbling away. “If you say it like that, boss, then I have to make it work.”

Yifan - Yifan doesn’t know quite how to respond to that, with how hard his traitorous heart is beating in his chest, with how loud his blood is roaring in his ears. He looks down and busies himself with going through his emails. For a moment, there’s nothing but the pulse of Yifan’s heart and the soft wooshing of the air-conditioning in the room, silence light but laden with an unspoken something in the space between Yifan and Jongin.

Jongin’s the one who breaks the quiet first, clicking his pen. “It’s getting late, boss,” he murmurs. “I’ll send the emails to everyone before I clock out. Don’t work too late, alright?”

“I can’t promise you anything that drastic,” Yifan says. Jongin scoffs.

“You need to get some actual rest. I know it’s peak prep season right now, but once that’s over, you have no excuse to keep sleeping this late.” He gives a soft smile, getting to his feet. Pauses for a moment, gaze meeting Yifan's own, parts his lips for a second and presses them back together just as quickly.

“Turn on your desk lamp if you’re going to keep working, boss. It’s bad for your eyesight.”

The door closes softly behind him. Yifan buries his face into his hands, and sighs.

 

-

 

Dinner that Friday goes something like this:

The waiter leaves with their orders, weaving through the maze of candlelit tables. “So,” Yixing starts, smiling angelically, flashing the patented dimpled grin that has been proven to make any man or woman within sight melt into a small emotional puddle. “How’s your crush on your hot secretary going, Fan?”

Yifan groans, tries to resist the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, and fails. “Why am I friends with so many _assholes_.”

Yixing shrugs, flips a page of his menu. “I dunno, Fan. Like attracts like, I guess?”

See, the thing is, there is a reason that Luhan and Yixing get along as well as they do (in both a platonic and Biblical sense), because Luhan would never fuck someone who wasn’t 100% as evil as he is. Behind that sweet hardworking boy-next-door exterior is a cunning, manipulative bastard who wraps people around his fingers like string and takes no small amount of joy in tormenting Yifan on a regular basis - a pastime all of his friends seem to just _delight_ in.

Yixing has a leg up from the rest of his shitty friends in that he is actually a genuinely Good Wholesome Person, in between his bouts of depravity and malice. He walks old grannies across the street, feeds the stray cats and dogs in the alleyway behind his apartment, visits his family once a month and dotes endlessly on his younger relatives. It just so happens that he’s also a massive flaming asshole in his remaining spare time.

“If it makes you feel any better, the rest of the office all agree that he’s very cute. In both ass and personality.” Yixing says, in what is supposed to come off as a consoling tone. “You’re a lucky, lucky boss.”

“Don’t you have anything to discuss that doesn’t involve Jongin,” Yifan sighs, taking a swig of his water. “Like, maybe something regarding _your_ disgusting affairs with Lu Han or even - as unrealistic as it sounds - something actually purely about _work_.”

Yixing laughs. “That wouldn’t be any fun at all, Fanfan. It’s way more fun to laugh at you.” He sips his own glass of water, leaning forward to meet Yifan’s gaze, dark eyes wide and soft through his wire-rimmed glasses. “On a more serious note. Do you want to talk about it?”

Yifan fiddles with a rolled-up shirt sleeve, looking away. “There’s really nothing to talk about. I’ve got a gross infatuation with my own assistant - my very nice, hardworking, adorable assistant - and I’m doing. My best. To get over it.”

“Making moon-eyes at him every time he’s in your line of sight isn’t exactly what I’d call ‘getting over him’, Yifan. You’re not subtle.” Yixing leans back, adjusting his glasses, snorting softly. “Neither is he, for the matter.”

At Yifan’s confused look, Yixing gives him a flat stare. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed? The ripped skinny jeans, the ass-hugging slacks, the popped buttons? The constant puppy eyes?”

“He’s young and he’s got a frankly inspiring amount of confidence in his own body. If he wants to dress like that I have nothing against it.” Yifan says, blushing a little at the reminder of Jongin’s inclining towards tight pants and tight _tight_ shirts and tight tight tight _everything_. “It’s his choice and he has every freedom to dress as he wants within office dress code. I mean, it’s very distracting for me personally, but that’s my fault, not his. And he gives puppy eyes to everyone, it’s his default state.”

“So I’m taking that as a no, then.” Yixing tips his head back and sighs. “You’re so respectable it physically _hurts_ , Fan. God damn it.”

“I’m _respectable_ because I’m a _decent human being,_ ” Yifan answers dryly, exhaling through his nose. What is it with his asshole friends and their united disapproval of him being an upright citizen, honestly.

“Fuck being a decent human being, all your problems would just be solved if you could just shut off your brain and think with your heart for a few minutes,” Yixing mutters. “Or think with your dick. Either way.”

“If I thought with my dick I’d end up like you, constantly fucking Luhan against every inch of the office when you’re supposed to be working and never actually admitting your own fucking feelings for him,” Yifan retorts, pumping his fist internally when Yixing flinches, ever so slightly. It’s barely a tilt of his lips, a lowering of his eyes, and he bounces back quickly with a lopsided smirk - but he’s _got_ him.

“Low blow, Fan,” Yixing mutters.

“You’re the one who sunk to that level in the first place. You dug your grave first.”

“I guess we’re just going to have to watch each other crash and burn then,” Yixing says, grinning, raising his glass.

“Why are we toasting our mutual downfalls,” Yifan sighs, but clinks his own glass against his anyways. “Now, do we have anything actually about _work_ to talk about tonight?”

 

-

 

It’s on a quiet Wednesday morning when Jongin calls in sick into work, via a rather typo-ridden text that pops up on Yifan’s phone screen just as he’s pulling into the Andromeda carpark.

**jongin**

_sper super sikc 2day boss (- m - ;; ) im not feleing so hot msry_

_doc says i shld rest til the weeknd_

_will keep yuo upd8ed_

_i aksed soo hyugn to hlep out for me_

_ohs hti do i need to sendn you n official email_

_wiat a sec_

It’s quickly followed by an email to Yifan’s own account, slightly less riddled with errors, reading much the same. Yifan pinches the bridge of his nose, fondness punching straight through his weak, treacherous heart even as it twitches painfully at the thought of Jongin being sick and sleepy and soft.

**boss**

_Jongin, it’s fine, don’t worry. The schedule’s all set for the next few days anyways._

_Rest well. Drink lots of water. I’ll see you when you’re better._

**jongin**

_htanks boss_

_your the bestste_

_i owe u a lucnh date when i get bnack!! w/o me ur prolly not even goign out ata all_

_ <3<3<3<3<3 _

It’s childish and irrational and dumb, but seeing the row of scatterbrained, sincere emojis makes Yifan’s heart thump painfully in his chest. Even after he’s seated himself in his office and brewed himself a cup of coffee and tried to bury himself in another mountain of papers and emails, it still remains.

 

-

 

“You’ve been sighing for the past fifteen minutes,” Kyungsoo says flatly.

“Why are you even here to comment on my breathing habits in the first place, Kyung-soo?” Yifan says, sighing pointedly just to make Kyungsoo twitch.

“I’m here because Jongin asked me to make sure that you actually sat down and ate lunch today,” Kyungsoo, rolling his eyes, continuing tapping away on his phone. “That kid is so invested in your health and wellbeing it hurts a little. So shut up and finish your noodles.”

“Really feeling the love here, ‘Soo,” Yifan snarks. He takes a bite anyways, letting the flavour explode onto his tongue. "Did he tell you what my usual order was or something?"

“How'd you guess," Kyungsoo deadpans. "He was very clear about it too. He's gotten to know your taste pretty damn well these past few months, I see. Must be a nice change of pace."

"You say that, but you brought me my favourite kind of fish ball porridge when I was sick without even being asked, so you don't have room to talk," Yifan teases. It's always so satisfying to see Kyungsoo blush.

"One time, and that only happened because I took pity on you." Kyungsoo mutters, steadfastly keeping his eyes fixed on his phone.

"Sure, Soo," Yifan grins. "And all the times you brought me my favourite coffee from downstairs and gave me your own homecooked food didn't happen. And all the times you had tender heart-to-hearts with me-"

"So how's that crush on Jongin going," Kyungsoo says, nigh cheerily. Yifan nearly chokes on his noodles, and ends up spluttering ungracefully around a mouthful of wonton, thankfully managing to swallow everything down and keeping himself from spitting noodles all over his desk. Kyungsoo isn't even smiling, but god is he emanating smugness right now.

"Why do _all_ of you seem to love to use my feelings against me?" Yifan complains, coughing slightly, catching his breath.

"Because you're weak and easy to bully," Kyungsoo says. "And your crush on Jongin is about as obvious as a two-story tall neon sign flashing I WANT TO FUCK MY SECRETARY in hot pink."

" _Stop_ ," Yifan pleads. "Come on. Can't any of you let me live for five minutes? I don't see you giving the rest of the office sass for thirsting after my assistant."

"Because the rest of the office aren't as head over heels for Jongin as you are," Kyungsoo says, smirking. "Drooling over his ass is one thing. But when you start pining like a high schooler over how cute he is, that's when you've got a real situation."

"You say that like he isn't cute," Yifan mutters.

"Oh no, Jongin is extremely cute," Kyungsoo agrees. "Adorable, really. Like a kicked puppy. But the rest of us don't spend as much time thinking about as you do. And you just spent the last several minutes sighing nonstop and looking off into empty space with dreamy eyes because he isn't there, so I think I've got the right to bring this up."

"Look, I can't help it if Jongin is just the easiest person to crush on in the universe," Yifan protests weakly. "It's really sketchy, I know, but when you have to see his smiling face every day for work it's hard not to love it."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, whipping out his phone and tapping at the screen. “You floundering awkward mess.“

Yifan’s phone pings with the notification jingle. He fishes it out of his pocket to see the screen lit up with a message from Kyungsoo, who sighs. “That’s his address. You haven't got any appointments for the rest of today. Go take your puppy eyes and pining to the person who actually wants it. I’d advise bringing chicken soup.”

“You’re the best, Kyungsoo,” Yifan says, with feeling.

Kyungsoo just laughs. “Yeah, I knew that already. Now hurry up and get your flat ass over to his place before he falls asleep again. Fair warning, though-” he says, “-he is the cuddliest brat alive when he’s sick. Be prepared.”

 

-

 

“B-boss,” Jongin stutters, eyes bleary and shadowed with bags. His thin oversized sweater shifts as he moves, the collar slipping off one shoulder to expose a tantalising expanse of collarbone as he brings a sleeve paw to his mouth to stifle a yawn. “What’re you do-” his voice catches on a breath, cheeks flushed red, “-doin’ here?”  
  
“When my favourite secretary is sick for a whole four days, I think it warrants a house visit to make sure you aren’t dead.” Yifan shifts in place, internally screaming at the sight of Jongin’s dark hair in a tangled bird’s nest, sticking out in all directions and framing his sleepy face and swollen lips so perfectly. “I hope I’m not intruding by being here.”  
  
“Nah, ‘s okay. Just kinda ‘mbarrassing. Haven’t cleaned up.” Jongin yawns again, rubbing his lidded eyes, smiling faintly. “Thought ‘Soo-hyung was your fav’rite,” he mumbles.  
  
Yifan chuckles. “You’ve usurped his position, incredibly. Can I come in? I brought chicken noodle soup.”  
  
Jongin blinks and jolts a little. “Oh, sorry! Sorry, I’m really out of it, ‘m sorry boss,” he apologises, babbling, opening the door wide and flopping a sleeve in a vague motion to gesture for the other to enter. “Sorry, that was rude of me.”  
  
“Stop apologising, Jongin,” Yifan chides, giving into the urge and reaching out to ruffle Jongin’s matted up bed hair. God, it’s so fluffy - but Yifan slides his hand down to cover his forehead, and finds it worryingly warm. “You’re the sick one here. I’m the one intruding.”  
  
Jongin’s lashes flutter as he leans into the touch, pouting. “Not ‘ntruding,” he mumbles. “It’s really nice of you to come by. I haven’t left the house ‘n days ‘n I’ve basically been living off takeout ‘n ‘Soo-hyung’s cooking.”  
  
Yifan chuckles, slipping off his shoes and stepping into the apartment proper. It’s a small, cozy space, clearly home to a single person, with a small kitchen and living room, and a corridor leading off from it. The beige-painted walls are covered in posters and pictures, depicting various scenic views and modern art pieces, with a significant amount of them featuring dogs as well. The curtains covering the balcony door and the windows are translucent and teal, filtering in the harsh afternoon sun as soft blue light, letting the summer sun spill into the apartment and wash it in cool calming hues. The battered couch up by the wall is covered in pillows, a thick fluffy patchwork blanket haphazardly draped over one end, and a fluffy dog plushie tucked into the nest. The music from earlier is louder now, playing through the speakers of the sticker-clad laptop on the couch.  
  
“Make yourself at home, boss,” Jongin says, padding into the kitchen. “You can put the food down on the counter. D’you want water, coffee or tea?”  
  
“Shouldn’t you be resting instead of serving me a drink? We’re not at work, Jongin-ah,” Yifan says, a little worried. Jongin rolls his eyes in response, muffling a little cough into his sleeve.  
  
“I’m sick, not an invalid,” he mumbles. “I can muster up enough energy to be a li’l hospitable to m’ own boss. Coffee, tea, or water?”  
  
“Coffee would be nice,” Yifan answers quietly, putting his bag of takeout on the stone countertop and staying put at the counter, looking around a little awkwardly, unsure of the boundaries within Jongin’s home. “If it’s not too much to ask.”  
  
Jongin makes an audible snort, reaching over to flick on an electric kettle, a hiss filling the room as it turns on. “Bo-oss,” his voice bends around a little yawn, elongating the last syllable, “s’ just coffee. I mean, I’ve only got instant righ’ now, so, I hope you don’t mind. No fancy americano machines here.”  
  
Yifan chuckles. “I practically lived off of instant coffee throughout university. I don’t mind at all. Have you eaten already?”  
  
“Mmhmm,” Jongin hums, puttering round the kitchen, the long hems of his oversized pants smothering his ankles and grazing the floor as he shuffles around, taking out a jar of instant coffee and a jar of sugar. “Take a seat already, boss. One spoon of sugar or none?”  
  
“One spoon,” Yifan says. He perches himself in one of Jongin’s metal barstools, the legs wobbling a little as he sets his full weight down but staying firm.  
  
Jongin extracts a teaspoon from one of the drawers and a mug from another, cracking open the coffee and measuring one teaspoon of instant coffee out into the mug, going through the motions with languid movements and sleepy eyes. Yifan watches him work through a haze, the stress and weight of the day wearing down on him heavy, amplified by the heat of the summer and the serenity of the apartment and the singer on the track crooning about taking it slow. Everything else melts away. All he can see is Jongin, with his sleep-mussed hair and his soft off-key humming and the little split in his chapped over-dry lips from smiling too much. God, the week's been far too long without him.  
  
When he blinks, the kettle's clicking off and Jongin's pouring a stream of hot water into the mug, steam hissing gently and the familiar aroma of coffee filling the air.  
  
“How’ve you been?”  
  
The younger hums noncommittally, taking a carton of milk and pouring some in. “M’ tired, but I’m okay. The flu's wearing off. Haven't thrown up since yesterday.”  
  
"You've been throwing up?" Yifan asks, alarmed.  
  
Jongin waves his hands around floppily in a placating gesture, stirring the coffee one last time and sliding it over. "It's nothing too bad, don't worry about it. Flu hits me harder than most. And I'm loopy as fuck off 'a my meds right now. Drink your coffee already, boss, you look dead on your feet."  
  
"Well technically I'm sitting down," Yifan mumbles, but accepts the mug anyways, sipping at the drink carefully. The cold milk helped to chill it by a fair amount, and somehow Jongin's achieved a temperature not hot enough to scald but just warm enough to fill Yifan with pleasant contentment. "Who're you to be telling me that I look tired? You're the sick one here, Jongin."  
  
"Caring about your wellbeing is part of my job, boss." Jongin pouts. Yifan hates it when he does that - it's so fucking distracting all the time. It's the worst. He downs nearly half the mug in an attempt to distract himself from it, but even with it obscuring his vision slightly, it's still there and he knows it's there and it drives him just a little bit insane.  
  
"Your job revolves around making sure I show up to places when I'm supposed to, and that I don't die. But I appreciate your extra effort."  
  
"As you should," Jongin gives a lopsided grin, cocking his head to the side, his fringe flopping sideways. "I mean, without me, who'd drag you out of your office? You'd probably start growing roots and fusing with your chair or somethin'."  
   
"Even when you're sick you've still got that sass in you, huh?" Yifan murmurs wryly, taking another swig of his coffee.  
  
"Side effect of bein' friends with-" chapped lips part in a low yawn, "-with a horde of assholes. Y' gotta learn t' keep up."  
  
"I can relate to that," Yifan chuckles. "I'm friends with Yixing and Kyungsoo, after all. And you know how they are."  
  
"Oh man, 'Soo-hyung 'specially. 'Soo-hyung's a real softie, but he's soooo prickly and grumpy on the outside. You gotta pick at his spiky layers and get to his mushy core before he starts doing Soft Friend Things for you. But ohhh man," Jongin giggles, "his Soft Friend Things are just. The Softest. You know?"  
  
"He brought me food once when I was sick," Yifan says, recalling the occasion. "He was uncharacteristically gentle the entire time, even though he was very grumpy at himself and the entire world for being that way."  
  
"Soo-hyung in a nutshell," Jongin says, nodding loosely, his hair bouncing with the movement like a fluffy brown cloud. "Real life tsundere. That's 'Soo-hyung."  
  
"I think everyone who gets to know Kyungsoo realizes that he's just the world's most reluctant tsundere." Yifan remarks, eyes still drawn to Jongin's hair. Yifan wants to pat his head so badly - ugh, damn it, why not.  
  
He gives in to the impulse, reaching over and threading his fingers through Jongin’s hair once more. Jongin sighs so sweetly at the contact, melting into the touch and practically nuzzling his palm, eyes shuttering closed. "That's....mm, tha'ss real, really nice."  
  
"You're more cat than human right now, aren't you," Yifan remarks, digging his fingertips into Jongin's scalp and scratching lightly. A full-body shiver goes through the younger, a dopey contented smile spreading across the younger's face.  
  
"M' a cute cat, though, right? The best kitty with the best organizin' skills," Jongin slurs, leaning further into Yifan's palm and attempting to mock-purr, his dulled tongue tripping over the vibrations and ending up emitting a more 'pbflth' sound instead. Yifan giggles.  
  
"Sure you are. Bratty kitty assistant who makes good coffee and can't stop falling asleep at his desk." he murmurs.  
  
"Sounds like a really trashy moe anime." Jongin grins sleepily, eyelids fluttering slow, lashes delicate and dark against his golden cheeks, bags evident under his hooded eyes. "My Neko Secretary Can't Be This Cute! Or y'know, something along those lines."  
  
A bark of laughter escapes Yifan at that. "I hate that I've watched enough anime to understand that reference." There's a familiar, terrible fondness unfurling from the hollow in his chest and spreading throughout his body, his rabbit-fast heart pumping sparks and butterflies to every inch of his flesh. "You really look like you need another nap."  
  
"Then you should come 'n sleep with me," Jongin mumbles softly. Yifan's heart stutters.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I saaaid," Jongin says, pouting a little, "you should come siddown for a nap with me. Don't stop scratching my head, feels nice. You could use a li'l rest, yanno."  
  
"Doesn't this go entirely against the point of this coffee, Jongin," Yifan says, faintly, restarting his fingers on autopilot to scritch against Jongin's head, dragging out a pleased little hum from the younger. So apparently Jongin’s established boundaries just disintegrate when he’s sick.  
  
"We-ell, yeah, but. You look tired 'nough to fall asleep anyways." Jongin leans forward slightly, fixing Yifan with a drowsy look. "From one very sleepy person to another. Come take a rest, boss. You can crash on my couch for a bit. I mean, I checked your schedule for t'day and you've got nooothin' on."  
  
"I'll sit down with you till you fall asleep, sure, but I do want to go home, Jongin."  
  
" _Staaaay_ ," Jongin whines, batting his eyes sluggishly. "I'm your cute hardworking secretary askin' you this one favour. Take a nap. Pet my hair for a while. 'Parently it's very soothing. C'moo-ooon."  
  
Yifan sighs. Well, looking at Jongin's face, he'll probably fall asleep within a few minutes anyways. Then Yifan can escape back home away from Jongin's maddening presence and crash comfortably on his own bed, or at least go take a shower and scream over how fucking gone he is for his assistant. "Let me finish this coffee first then, you brat."  
  
"M'kay," Jongin sings, a satisfied little smile on his face as he pads away. Yifan half-resentfully downs the rest of his cup. He has no right to be looking that adorable when he's being so terribly smug, damn it.  
  
"Jus' leave the mug on the counter, boss," Jongin calls, plopping down on the couch, a soft thud filling the room for a brief moment. "Now come over 'n pet my hair."  
  
"He was right," Yifan mutters under his breath as he gets up from the barstool, making his way over the soft carpet to Jongin. "The most demanding cuddle-starved monster." The worst part is that he doesn't even mind.

 

(He does end up falling asleep - it’s hard not to, with Jongin’s head pillowed in his lap and the sinfully soft couch underneath so perfectly cushioning him and the soothing female voice on the track singing about love and lulling him to to rest. The last light of day is warm on his skin and blinding in his eyes when he finally jerks awake, fingers still tangled in Jongin’s fluffy hair, Jongin having squirmed over on his side in his sleep, his face pressed into Yifan’s stomach, expression serene and painted golden in the sunset. Yifan digs the pads of his fingers carefully into the younger man’s scalp, and Jongin sighs and makes a pleased little dream-muddled sound, lips curling up slightly.

He almost. Almost wants to stay here.

He gently eases the sleeping man off of his lap, laying his head on a pillow, taking a moment too long to brush his hair back and drink in the sight of him. Drags the blanket back up to cover him up, in case he gets cold, with the air-conditioning keeping the room cool even in the heat of summer.

The door clicks shut softly behind him.)

 

-

 

**jongin**

_did i cuddle u while i was sick or was that just a fever dream_

**boss**

_You did._

_And you were very sweet about it too._

_You also demanded that I pet your hair and sleep with you._

**jongin**

_shit im sorry (- _ - ;;; ) that must hv been so akwward fr u_

_thnk u fr the soup tho it was super nice_

**boss**

_Don’t apologise for that, it wasn’t a problem._

_I hope you’re feeling better today?_

**jongin**

_well the fevers gone n now im just a lil woozy_

_ill be back to work as soon as im ready (- u - )_

**boss**

_I’ll be glad to have you back. It hasn’t been the same without you._

**jongin**

_soo-hyungs been bullyin u huh_

**boss**

_I had almost forgotten what it felt like to have him as a secretary._

_I vastly prefer your methods._

 

-

 

It’s a Friday when they finally reach breaking point.

“Fuck!” Jongin squawks from across the room. Yifan’s head whips up lightning-fast from his desk, his eyes instantly drawn to the lean figure of his secretary. His cup of coffee is overturned, a small puddle of brown liquid pooling on the table, and coffee dripping through Jongin's hands, where he's clutching his phone and making the most horrified face.

"Go get some paper towels, Jongin!" Yifan barks, snapping the younger out of his brief stupor and jolting him into action. "Bathroom!" Jongin nods his head jerkily, already sprinting out of the front door cradling his phone to his chest like a small child in critical condition. Yifan quickly dashes over to the coffee table, where the puddle of coffee is encroaching upon Jongin's precious journal, and sweeps it up and away to his own desk, safely out of reach.

From a distance, Yifan looks over the mess. The spill seems mostly contained on the glass table, thankfully, but there's still a little bit dripping off of the side onto the rug - Yifan's very nice, very comfy, rather expensive designer rug. Which now has coffee stains on it. Yifan stifles a groan in the back of his throat. Mrs. Lee is going to give him the dirtiest, most disappointed look when she steps in to clean this later. What is it with old Korean grandmothers and their capacity for intimidation anyways?

He glances down at the cloth-bound planner he has in his hand. The telltale brown stain of coffee has already overtaken the tip of one corner, but apart from that, the book appears mercifully clean. Yifan bites his lip. He's never seen the inside of it, and neither has anyone in the office from what he knows of.

But. He's curious as to how Jongin keeps so organized - he's seen Kyungsoo's meticulous spreadsheets and digitised schedules, to compensate for his incredibly sloppy handwriting. How do Jongin's methods differ, with his own admitted ineptitude with technology?

And anyways, it's not like he'd hide his deepest darkest secrets in a w _eekly planner._ It's even got a little winky bear sticker on the top corner. The bear even has a little flower tucked behind its cartoon ear. It's so completely innocuous. So very Jongin.

He cracks the cover open, flipping through the first few weeks. Each week is allotted its own two pages, and each day is allotted its own column. All over the printed gray lines, Jongin's handwriting stands out, his looping scrawl penned in blue-green-orange-pink ink and delightfully neat, compared to his last assistant. He seems to code different events with different colours of ink, though Yifan's not sure which is which.

He turns the page to the last week of January. There's a fluorescent pink heart-shaped sticky note, stuck in the midst of the color-coded chaos, reading _when he wears that one pair of black slacks i want to suck his dick 10x more than normal._

Yifan swallows hard. This. This isn’t what he’s thinking, right?

He turns the page to the next week. Another pink sticky note, this one made of paper and lined with white flowers - _i really want my boss to bend me over his desk and come inside of me <3\. _

Yifan very much wants to die. When did he sit down in his own chair? He’s got a hand pressed against his thigh, fingers curving and nails digging into the flesh as he works very hard to restrain a scream.

Why does he keep reading.

White and rose pink-striped, with _choke me yifan_ written in black ink.

 _can boss just grab my ass and eat me out already,_ penned in blue on a pale pink background, slapped over the first Monday of May.

A sticky note with a red apple background, reading _he needs to eat more!! preferably breakfast, at my place, after he's fucked me all night long <3 _

He doodles a lot of little hearts, Yifan notes absently, as the rest of his mind screeches and flails in a storm of shock and emotion. Bear emojis too, and little misshapen egg-like beings with perpetually gloomy faces. It’s jarringly adorable. In contrast to the NC-17 filth scrawled next to them.

The sticky notes seem to increase in density as they move through time, especially once June starts. _i want to ride him on his chair all day <3 _, pasted over a June Thursday.

_id probably be able to suck his dick under the desk without anyone noticing god i wanna do that_

_can he not!! wear that shirt like that!! so distracting!! nearly dropped my phone!!_

_when he frowns i just wanna kiss it off his face_

_when he!! gets the boss eyes!! wow pls fuck me_

_i want him to mark me up with hickeys so everyone knows im his_

_would he taste like americano?_

Finally he hits the current week. A little bear-patterned sticky note, pasted right over this Sunday- _buy more ripped skinny jeans or steal taemin’s._ Isn’t that his best friend? Why are Jongin’s friends enabling this -

A pair of hands swoop down to snatch the planner out of his grip, wrenching it away in the blink of an eye. Yifan jerks his head upwards to find Jongin staring back at him, clutching his planner to his chest, hair askew from running, shirt rumpled and eyes wild. Yifan's heart drops out of the bottom of his chest and into oblivion. He - They - oh god.

"Fuck," Jongin says, eyes wide, knuckles white. "I--Fuck, I'm-"  he cuts himself off, taking one step behind him. Then another.

"Jongin, wait-" Yifan tries, but Jongin runs out the door, and Yifan’s left staring at empty space, still trying to process everything, too stunned to run after him.

 

-

 

**boss**

_Jongin I’m not angry or mad or anything, you’re not in trouble._

_I just need to talk with you._

_I’m sorry I went through your book like that without permission, that was incredibly rude of me._

_But we need to talk about this together._

**boss**

_Jongin, are you there? Did you lose your phone or something? I’m getting really worried here._

**boss**

_Just answer_

_Please_

_[Seen 19:48]_

-

 

“I’m not saying I told you so,” Baekhyun starts, ‘But I fucking told you so.”  
  
"Not helping, babe," Jongdae mutters, pinching his boyfriend's side, looking at Yifan sympathetically. They're all squished into an empty booth at the cafe - it's nearly closing time, and the only stragglers left on this Friday night are a clearly inebriated couple of young men, who have managed to eat their way through six donuts and three slices of cake thick enough to be called slabs. Chanyeol's still at the counter, keeping an eye on them, though obviously itching to come over and help console their CEO friend.  
  
“He’s not answering my calls or my emails or my texts,” Yifan mutters, gloomy, stirring his smoothie with a straw aimlessly, watching droplets of water bead on the outside of the glass. “Kyungsoo says he isn't answering him either. He’s avoiding all conflict and running the hell away and it hurts.”  
  
"Could be because he spilled coffee on his phone?" Jongdae suggests. "It probably got wrecked by that if he didn't manage to salvage it in time."  
  
"He's got a working laptop and Internet access at home," Yifan mumbles. "Highly doubt he'd stay out this late."  
  
Jongdae sighs, leaning over and patting the man on his silver head. "Yifan. It's been less than a day. He ran off after lunchtime, right? He could be out on the town, or he could be visiting a friend's place or something. Don't work yourself up over him this soon."  
  
“Little too late for that, Dae," Baekhyun says, sipping his glass of iced tea, unsubtly winding his free arm around his boyfriend's waist. "Anyways. Yifan. Why didn’t you tell me your hot secretary was Jonginnie?”  
  
“Well, because you would stalk him across all social media platforms and -” Yifan stops, registers the nickname - “Wait, how do you know my secretary?”  
  
Baekhyun grins. “We worked together when I was in college. He was a freshie, I was in senior year, I was a good sunbae. Taught him the ropes of the job, y’know? It’s been a while, but I’m still in touch with him.”  
  
“You-" Yifan swallows, and tries very hard Not To Think about the fact that Baekhyun only ever had one job in university, and it was as a stripper at a very posh nightclub - fuck, Jongin in fishnets and black leather, thick thighs wrapped around a metal pole - _oh god_ , bad thoughts, _bad thoughts_.  
  
Across the table, Jongdae and Baekhyun give twin maniacal grins. “You’re making the pervert face again,” Baekhyun announces gleefully, to the sound of Yifan choking on his own spit and Jongdae's cackling. “That one face you always get when you’re fantasizing over your latest crush committing some real Intense Sinnery or some real Disgusting Adorable. Hard to tell with you, but for you they’re basically the same thing. Same face that Chanyeol makes when he’s thinking about Sehunnie, actually-”

“Stop talking about me and my boyfriend, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol calls from the counter, glaring over in their direction and pouting. Baekhyun flashes an impish smile at him and makes a vague hand gesture of insincere apology, as he often does.  
  
“I hate that you can actually identify the specific face I make at this,” Yifan mutters. “Why am I friends with you people.”  
  
“Because, darling Fan, dear friend of mine,” Baekhyun says, turning back to Yifan, making a grandiose sweeping motion and seemingly producing his phone from nowhere, "I can get you the confrontation with our dear flighty friend that you need."  
  
Yifan blinks. Jongdae gives Baekhyun this irrepressibly fond look.  
  
Baekhyun grins. "Don't you remember? You owe me a blind date. And I've got my dear, helpful little dongsaeng’s number. And all of his social media accounts, if the phone doesn’t work. Now, how does Sunday night sound to you?"

Yifan shakes his head slowly, hesitantly. "What if - I don't wanna corner him like that, god, I don't wanna back him into some place he feels he can't get out of-"

"Yifan." Baekhyun sighs, fixing the other man with a firm gaze, some of the playfulness bleeding out of him. "You have been lusting hard after Jongin. But clearly, the same goes for the other side. Now that this is all up and in the open, you _have_ to deal with it. It's not just something you can forget about. I mean, you definitely could just forget, but why the hell would you? You've got some tension to resolve here, and if you don't you're gonna fuck this up forever."

His face softens. "Fan, we know you. Jongin knows you well enough by now to know too. You're not the kind of guy who'd ever pull rank over someone unfairly or for your own gain. You're a bleeding goddamn heart and a giant softie. Maybe the fact that you are his boss is part of why he's running, but it's not the main reason why. Jongin's never really been too good with dealing with his own raw feelings in front of his own crushes. He's kind of a chronic second-guesser, and he tends to bolt when things get rough. It's less cornering him and more. Making sure he listens to everything you have to say first."

"What Baekhyun's saying is," Jongdae says, reaching over and taking Yifan's hand, "it's your turn to go after him. Clear the air. Make sure he knows what you feel. I'm sure you'll be able to take care of the rest from there."

"What he said," Baekhyun smiles, leaning into Jongdae's side. "Fan, as sappy and uncharacteristic of me as this sounds, we want you to be happy. Just talk to him. Be brave. Kick your own ass, shut off that brain for a sec, and just let out your heart."

Some of the pressing weight on Yifan's shoulders eases, warmth sinking into his bones. "I haven't gotten a pep talk from you two in forever," he murmurs, cracking a tiny grin. "Thanks, guys."

Jongdae beams, flashing his characteristic kitten smile. "Anytime, Fan."

"And I'll take that as a  _yes, Baekkie, your ideas are brilliant and I wouldn't be anywhere without you,_ " Baekhyun sings, grinning brightly. "Now, would you prefer French or Italian?"

-

 

His date has soft pink hair in a fluffy and tastefully done undercut, the hue a gorgeous sleek rosewood that glows in the dim lights, visible from across the room.

The man freezes in his seat, dark eyes wide. “ _Boss?!_ ”

Yifan, much to his credit, does not fall over. “Hi, Jongin.”

The CEO spends a good 10 seconds in the middle of the restaurant, standing frozen in place, eyes absolutely glued to Jongin’s form. Yifan really needs to find some place to lie down right now because 1) Jongin in date clothes is an unfairly attractive being; 2) _Jongin has pink hair_ and Yifan is going to pop a vein with the blood pressure he’s pushing right now.

“Um, boss, you can sit down, y’know,” Jongin mutters, cheeks aflame. Yifan mutely takes a seat. There’s a pregnant silence between them for several long moments, both of them opening the fancy menus and trying to read through, doing their best to not look at the other, the only sound between them their breaths and the din of the other diners around them.

“How are you doing?” Yifan asks, breaking the quiet, in lieu of blurting out something far more embarrassing, like ‘ _you look very cute’_ or _‘your lips are very distracting tonight_ ’ or ‘ _hey yeah i read all of your sticky notes and I’m very interested in all of the actions described’_. “How -- how have you been? Why is your hair pink?”

“I’m doing. Okay. And I was scheduled to dye my hair this week, I wanted to change it up.” Jongin mutters, eyes averted, one hand fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “You must be Baekhyun-hyung's rich CEO friend.”

“I’m his only CEO friend, so I suppose that has to be me,” Yifan takes a sip of his glass of water, doing his best to banish the Evil Thoughts that creep in, bearing images of Jongin in fishnet stockings and spandex and nothing else. “He mentioned that you guys reconnected only recently when you graduated?”

“Yeah,” Jongin laughs, awkwardly. “Um, I’m not good with keeping in touch with friends, so I didn’t talk much with him for the last year of university because of my year abroad? But after I came back he just, um, kind of waltzed back into my life like nothing happened.”

“He tends to do that,” Yifan mutters, kneading his temple with one hand, looking down to avert his eyes from Jongin’s too-pretty face. Gathers his resolve. He’s here, Jongin’s sitting in front of him, looking ready to bolt, he needs to do this. _Stop beating around the bush, Yifan_ , Inner Baekhyun chides in his head.

Inhale, exhale.

Yifan leans forward. “Look. We’ve got a lot to work out, Jongin. Mostly regarding our mutual mixed feelings. And since it’s going to take a while, probably, we might as well order first. And well, we could just walk out of here and go talk somewhere else, but it is notoriously difficult to get reservations here, and I figured that if I was going to corner you to talk it might as well be somewhere nice. Besides, I know the roast chicken here is pretty damn good.” Yifan bites his lip. “You’re free to walk out and leave if you want, and we can go back into work next Monday and put all this behind us. Or. We can talk, and actually resolve this.”

Another silence, hanging unspoken and shimmering between them, filled by the din of the restaurant and the warm glow of the lights hanging from the ceiling. That unspoken, tender, taut something that’s always been between Jongin and Yifan, binding them together even as it closes them off.

Jongin exhales, softly. “Okay.” A tiny hesitant smile, a spark blooming in his eyes. “Let’s order then. I mean. I already know what I want, I got here early.”

Yifan chuckles. “Traffic was bad on the way over?” he offers. The way the corners of Jongin’s eyes crinkle and the way his nose scrunches up when he smiles - it makes something in Yifan’s chest curl up, warm and affectionate and wanting.

 

-

 

Another silence follows in the wake of the waiter leaving their table, both of them not quite looking each other in the eye as they sit. They seem to having a lot of those lately.  
  
“Okay.” Jongin says, breaking the quiet, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’ll go first. Um. Look, boss. I’ve been crushing on you since I started working for you. And I’ve been. Really, really falling for you, over the past couple of months. I like you. A whole fucking lot. Yeah.” The last few words come out as a soft mumble, just loud enough for Yifan to make out.  
  
“I like you a lot, Yifan. Not just because you’re hot, w-which you are. But also because you’re just a really good person. You - you’re amazing, and kind, and sweet, and smart, and caring. I mean, most CEO’s don’t personally go to their assistant’s houses to check up on them when they’re sick. Not all bosses care so much about their colleagues and underlings as you do.”  
  
Jongin tips his head back a little, looking to the ceiling. “I want you. In um, both the romantic sense and the, um, physical sense. And I know you’re into me too, but. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I-I’m pretty sure you’re also, like. Into me. The hold-hands midnight-dates soft-cuddles kind of Into Me.” He looks back down to meet Yifan’s gaze, pouting slightly. “And don’t you dare try and lie and say you don’t watch my ass every time I bend over or salivate over me in skinny jeans. Because boss. Yifan. Everyone does it, but especially you.”  
  
“When there was that. That barrier of Not-Serious between us, where I could bend over and shake my ass and bat my eyes at you without you taking it too directly. Then I could pretend to be bold and flirty. I mean, it wasn’t really my idea at first - my best friend said I should give it a try, just to see if you’d react. And then you did, and I really liked it, so I didn’t stop. But having you see just. Everything that I feel about you. Um. Really embarrassing. Sorry about not answering any of your emails by the way. Or your calls. And texts.”  
  
“If.” Jongin says, starting a sentence. He stops in his tracks, bites his lip. “If you don’t feel comfortable with having a secretary after your ass. I’ll try and stop. Or I can just go. I mean, I can probably get another job without too much trouble, so you don’t have to worry about that-”  
  
Yifan reaches over to ruffle the younger’s hair, visibly derailing his entire train of thought. His hair is a little rougher from the bleaching, but some obviously meticulous conditioning and hair care has allowed every strand to keep its smoothness and luster. Jongin makes a quiet, surprised little sound, melting into the contact with something brilliant shimmering in his eyes. “I think you’re running a little too fast there, Jongin. You’re assuming that I don’t want you enough to keep you.”  
  
Yifan stops, makes a face, even as Jongin's lips part slightly, slack-jawed. “Wait, gimme a second, that sounds really weird. I meant that in a more, don’t worry about me firing you over something like this kind of sense. You’re a damn good secretary, Jongin. I don't ever fire employees over things as trivial as crushes as long as they can do their jobs. And I was the one worrying about ever trying to make a move on you, y'know. I mean, it's pretty sketchy for any executive officer to make a move on their secretary, let alone a CEO. But yeah. I’m  - Yeah. You’re right. I do have a big fat, full homo crush on you, Jongin. You were, in fact, completely right."  
  
"But - nothing has to change," Yifan says, careful, gentle, shutting his eyes. "We can keep going on as we are now, and remain friends and coworkers and just that. Or we can start something. In a more together kind of sense. It’s up to you." There's nothing but silence from across the table. Yifan opens his eyes and finds Jongin frozen, eyes wide, lips slightly parted in his shock. “Jongin, are you okay.”  
  
"You know," Jongin says, in lieu of a response, "this scenario played out once in a dream. Can you pinch me real quick - ow!" He makes a wounded noise when Yifan reachs over and does just that, pinching the skin of his wrist. "Wow, okay, you pinch hard, boss."  
  
"Sorry," Yifan mumbles, stifling a grin.  
  
"It's fine. So. Okay. Not dreaming, then." Jongin exhales slowly, blooming into a soft, small smile. "Well. Yeah. In case it hasn't been obvious, boss, I've been kind of crushing on you for months. Yes, I'm good with this. You’re good with this, I’m good with this. Nothing in the way. Are we starting this now then?"  
  
"I've got you as my date in one of the nicest restaurants in this neighbourhood," Yifan murmurs, unable to stop the dopey, blissful grin tugging at his lips. "I think we can safely count this as Date Zero, at least. Next time, I'll take you out under less false pretenses, how about that?"  
  
"Sounds good to me-" Jongin starts, half-giggling, before stopping in his tracks at the sight of the waiter coming by their table with a tray of plates in hand. "Oh man, can you smell that chicken!"  
  
He's so cute about his favorite food. Yifan smiles politely at the waiter, eyes still drawn inevitably, inexorably back to Jongin, with his rose-pink hair and his wide heartfelt smiles and his tender heart. Yifan's heart pounds staccato in his chest - for once, it doesn't hurt. Without noticing, something unwound from around his chest, loosening its iron grip on his ribcage. He feels so much freer with his breath - so much freer with his heart. There’s space enough for him to breathe and fall at the same time.  
  
Jongin licks his lips, and Yifan's pulse stutters giddily along, dancing in between his breaths, in tune to the man in the seat across from him, the man who maybe, Yifan’s in love with.

At the very least, he’s well on the way there.

  
  
(They’re outside of the restaurant, on the way to Yifan’s car so Yifan can give him a lift home. On this hot summer night, even with a million neon street signs and lamp posts and shopfronts lit up around them, Jongin’s eyes are still the brightest thing that Yifan can see.

“Why keep your sticky notes in your planner, though?” He asks, out of curiosity.  
  
“Frustration,” Jongin says, blushing. “And. I dunno. I liked that I could get out all my frustrations while you were right there. It added this. Um. Ugh, okay, I'm not gonna finish that sentence, you already saw all of my notes," he mumbles, trailing off, tucking his chin into his chest. The tips of his ears are flushed pink, matching his new dye job.  
  
Yifan is overcome by the urge to kiss him. Then he realizes that there's nothing stopping him now except his own hesitation, and Jongin’s own permission.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs. Jongin looks up at him, and nods jerkily.  
  
The squeak Jongin lets out when the CEO brushes his lips against the shell of his ear is the sweetest sound Yifan's ever heard.)

-

 

The first thing Yifan sees when he walks back into his own office after a meeting in Yixing's office is his secretary, leaning over his desk, toes pointed and back arched and his perfect ass encased in his favorite (Yifan’s favorite) pair of slacks as he taps away on his phone.

Jongin turns his pink head as he hears the door click shut, blinking innocently, giving a sweet smile  over his shoulder as Yifan stands half-frozen by the entrance. "Hi, boss. I ordered wonton noodles for lunch."

"Do you know," Yifan says, breaking himself out of his stupor and stalking over to his desk, gaze roaming over Jongin's toned back and pert ass and thick thighs and his - _fuck_ , his _everything_ , really. "-anyone could have just walked in? And seen you like that? Sticking your ass out for anyone to see, just waiting for your boss to come in?"

Jongin hums. "Well, no one did. And my plan worked so. Moot point."

"Nini." Yifan says, seating himself in his chair so he can look Jongin in the eye, with his very distracting lower body out of view. "Babe. If you want to flex your exhibitionist streak, can we try it some place that doesn't run the risk of a potential career-ruining scandal?"

"Don't pretend you don't like the thrill, Yifan," Jongin huffs, pouting. "I distinctly remember you very much enjoying that under-the-desk blowjob last week."

"First of all, I barely agreed to that, you were the one who sunk to your knees and _kept blowing me_ even through Luhan poking his head in here to pester me over his designs. Do you not remember me nearly choking on my spit. Or how fucking long it took for Luhan to take the hint and _leave._ "

"This time we'll lock the door." Jongin cajoles, batting his eyes. "Problem solved. You can bang me without fear of interruption, I get to get fucked, no one has to be potentially traumatised by walking in on us. Wins all around!"

"I almost preferred it when you were just being a tease before," Yifan mutters, "at least then I didn't have the temptation of actually being able to fuck you."

"Once you hit this ass there's no turning back," Jongin shakes his ass from side to side as he sings, slightly offkey and with a cute little smirk on his plush lips. Yifan massages his temple with one finger, steadfastly trying to rein in his terrible disobedient dirty thoughts at the sight of his boyfriend's perfect plush pert round - _fuck_.

He groans. "Jongin seriously, I can't afford to get my desk dirty. I work here. All the time. Imagine if I had to spend my entire work week sat here, haunted by the knowledge that your cumstains are laid right under my laptop."

"Sounds kinky," Jongin chirps.

"How did I ever think you were innocent," Yifan sighs, an irrepressibly fond smile blooming on his face. "Incubus. Demon boyfriend."

Jongin leans over to plant a soft, chaste kiss on his lips, brief and tasting of mint and coffee. "I'm your demon boyfriend and you love me. C'mon, boss." Jongin coaxes. "I've blown you under this desk before, why not even the score and fuck me over it?"

"The blowjob didn't run the risk of cumstains messing up my nice clean workspace." Yifan exhales softly, resolve crumbling fast, as it always does with Jongin. "Goddamn it. If we fuck on my desk we've gotta be careful."

Jongin's head bobs back and forth whip-fast, eyes practically sparkling with the force of his elation. "I've got lube, condoms and wet tissues."

"You prepared for this," Yifan says. Why is he not surprised. He's in a relationship with a sexual deviant hidden under a shy cute mask. He should have realised this the moment he knew Jongin worked the same job as Baekhyun in college. No one spends too much time around Baekhyun without catching his perversion in some fashion. "Fuck it. Go get your stuff and bring it in and lock the door when you come back."

"Actually, I stashed the stuff in your drawer." Jongin says, nonchalantly. Yifan tips his head back and laughs.

"Fine then, I’ll just get the stuff out. Go lock the door, you menace."

"On it, boss," Jongin sings gleefully. Yifan doesn't have to look to know that he's practically sashaying over to the door - he keeps his eyes fixed below, pulling open his bottom-most drawer to find a strip of condoms, a almost-full lube bottle, a jumbo-sized pack of scented wet wipes - and wrapped in a small towel, Jongin's favorite buttplug, metallic and chrome and 'just big enough to hit the right spots', as he's enthused shyly before. He didn't even bother to try and conceal it, goddamn it.

"The plug? Really?" Yifan calls, voice wry, pulling the bottle and the condoms out to rest on the table.

"Shush, I didn't have anywhere else to stash it." Jongin pouts. "We probably should finish before lunch break ends so it doesn't look too fishy."

Yifan looks up as the footsteps come around the desk and closer to him - and yeah, unsurprisingly he's already kicked off his shoes, and his pants, and his briefs. The sunlight filtering in through the windows casts him in the perfect lighting, his bare flesh glowing like some sun-bronzed deity, his dress shirt falling loosely and tenting over the outline of his hard cock, every movement drawing his gaze in, irresistibly. Yifan's helpless before him as Jongin pads over to him and clambers into his lap, seating his ass comfortably against the other's crotch and winding his arms around Yifan's neck, the stiff cotton of his rolled-up sleeves pleasant over bare skin. The CEO's own arms fold around his waist on muscle memory.

There's that moment of silence again, dancing in between them - this time, instead of something unaddressed, laden with the hint of heady, decadent intent. Yifan takes the time to drink the spectacle of him in - his newly re-dyed soft pink hair, carefully tousled, stray strands catching the light; his lips, plush and reddened, slightly chapped and parted unconsciously; his thighs, naked and thick and luscious and still stained with day-old hickeys and fading bruises. His eyes, dark and hooded, lashes fluttering, the light refracted through a million facets, a thousand times brighter in his eyes.

"Hi," Jongin breathes, soft, suddenly shy with Yifan's arms around him, the performer in him melting away and leaving him raw. Yifan never gets tired of it. Even after months of being together, and nearly as long being physical together, Jongin reacts so timidly and sweetly when faced with actual sex.

"Hi," Yifan murmurs. He tilts his head up, tipping forward to meet Jongin's mouth in a slow, deep kiss, sparks skittering down his spine as Jongin sighs, saccharine, parting his lips and letting Yifan in. The scent of his cologne clings faintly to him, some light musk that mixes with the fragrance of his fruity shampoo and the ever-present scent of paper and coffee.

He moans softly when Yifan pulls back, morphing quickly into a breathy yelp as Yifan grips his hips and bucks up lightly, dragging a sugar-sweet sound out of his throat and making his cock jerk where it's trapped between their bodies.

"So how long have you been lounging around here hard?" Yifan asks, giving Jongin a deadpan stare. Jongin only offers a shamelessly guilty little smile, reaching out and tugging off the CEO's tie with quick hands.

"Since you left. Got bored waiting for you to come back."

"Don't you have a job to be doing," Yifan deadpans, tucking his face into the crook of Jongin's neck and sneaking his hands up Jongin's dress shirt, running his palms over warm flesh, pinching at the soft little chub on Jongin's belly. "Like, any meetings to schedule. Contacts to make. People to harass."

"I'm just too good at my job," Jongin grins, "I gotta make my own work with all the spare time I've -" his voice breaks on a moan, sentence derailing as Yifan's hands find his ass and _squeeze_. “Fuck, fuck, Yi-fan, p-please,” Jongin gasps, keening as the CEO digs into the crevice between his cheeks with firm hands, spreading the perfect tan globes to reveal his twitching puckered hole. He shudders as long fingers tease around his rim, pressing down at the ring of muscle, in tandem with a small wet mouth gnawing a hickey into the junction between neck and shoulder.

“You’re wet,” Yifan murmurs, fingers meeting the telltale slick sensation of lube - looks like he doesn't need to crack open the bottle anyways. Jongin hiccups and squirms, flushing harder at the attention. “Who’s been in your hole, baby?

“Y-You,” Jongin’s tongue trips over the words, brain short-circuiting and hips bucking as another finger worms its way into his ass, spreading his rim deliciously. “-you, only - only you, you know this stop _teasing_.”

"I'm just returning the favour, Nini." Yifan hums. “You prepped yourself, huh?” he murmurs, voice rough with desire, and crooks his fingers and earns a sharp, breathy yelp from the writhing figure on top of him.

“Mmhmm,” Jongin hums. “N-not just fingers. Wasn’t good ‘nough. Went ‘n brought that ni-nice, big fat plug to sit on. Got so empty thinking ‘bout you fucking me, I c-couldn’t bear it,” he gasps out, voice cracking as the fingers inside him curl into his sweet spot and a shock of euphoria lances through his whole body.

He giggles teasingly, in between his stutters. "Was s-sitting - ah - sitting on it, a-aaallll morning,"

"Still can't believe you brought a _plug_ into work," Yifan deadpans, crooking his fingers particularly hard and earning a high-pitched squeak. "Don't tell me you took it out in the bathroom or something."

"I took it out rii-iight here," Jongin hiccups, letting out a choked laugh as Yifan curses under his his breath, his cock jerking where it's still trapped in his slacks. "Sat right in this ni-nice plush big CEO chair in nothing but this shirt 'n grinded down on it 'til I got all w-worked up. Then I eased it ou-ut 'n fingered m'self 'n put my clothes back on 'n waited for you to come back."

"I'm glad you added on that 'putting your clothes on' bit," Yifan hums, working in a third finger, Jongin quivering in appreciation around the combined girth. "Makes my heart a little more at ease. And half the fun is taking those clothes off of you."

"I dunno 'bout that, you h-haven't got this shirt off of me yet," Jongin mumbles, breath coming out increasingly stuttered with each passing moment, hitches in time with the movement of Yifan's fingers inside him.

"That's because when I fuck you, I want this shirt hanging off of you, buttons undone," Yifan drawls in Jongin's ear, voice sinking by the octaves to churn in the pit of Jongin's stomach, descending further to pool at his groin. "Doing absolutely nothing to hide how ruined you get on my cock. You like that?" Another thing they've figured out over the course of their relationship - Jongin's tendency to dissolve into a melty shuddery mess when faced with Yifan's deep voice dripping dirty talk in his ears. (Yifan still gets embarrassed over it sometimes, but he's learned to put that awkwardness aside in favour of wrecking Jongin to pieces.)

"Y-yeah," Jongin stammers, half-sobbing already. "Yeah, please, I'm already o-open, just - c'mon -"

He groans when Yifan's fingers slip out of him, achingly empty again, desperately moving to get up on shaky legs and stumble over the half-step to the desk, laying himself ass up and with his face pressed into the crook of his elbow against the wood surface. Yifan follows him on relatively steadier feet, rising up and pushing the back of Jongin's shirt up to reveal the breathtaking expanse of his golden back, leaning down and pressing a kiss over the dimples formed by the arch of his spine and bringing out another trembling wordless noise.

"Yifaaaaaan," Jongin slurs, jerking minutely as Yifan brushes his teasing fingers across his tailbone in a featherlight caress, "stop - c'mon, get the lu-lube, don't,"

"Alright, alright," Yifan says, a grin in his voice as he steps back and rummages for the lube. He can hear Jongin exhale softly and try to catch his breath, the cold air from the vent above probably tickling his bare skin and giving him goosebumps, doing nothing to quell the burning broiling ache bubbling up inside of him. He nearly looks like he's about to rut against the desk itself, but refrains, keeping his hips still and trembling in place, cock hanging reddened and hard and untouched between his legs, drooling clear precome from the head.

"Condom or no condom, babe?" Yifan asks, squinting.

"C-condom on me. So clean-up's not so bad." Jongin mumbles the last few words, making a slick little gulp, swallowing down the saliva pooling in his mouth. "Want you to fuck me raw."

Yifan raises an eyebrow, merely smirking, deftly ripping open one condom packet as requested. "You're such a dirty little cum dumpster, aren't you, Nini? Wanna feel me leaking out of you later, while you sit at your desk and squirm and try to focus on work, but all you can think about is how nice it feels to be warm and full."

Jongin actually sobs at that, tossing his head to the side and burying his face further into his elbow, voice coming out muffled around the fabric of his sleeve. " _Please_."

Yifan only hums, patting his ass gently, one strong palm gripping his hip. "Turn over so I can put the condom on you, baby. Then I'll fuck you like you want, m'kay?"

Jongin can barely muster up the coherency to nod, moving his clumsy muscles just enough for Yifan to tip him over to lean against the desk on his back, front exposed, his neediness on full display. Yifan almost coos - his erection looks almost angry, veins throbbing and precome threading a shiny little line down the shaft as it slides down, over his taut balls beneath. It's such a cute dick.

He rolls the condom down it quickly, showing Jongin a little mercy, the secretary letting out a choked moan as he's finally allowed a little friction, then just as quickly denied as Yifan reaches up and pops the last few buttons of his shirt, then takes him by the hips and flips him back over. It's properly dangling off of him now, sticking to him with sweat in little places, framing the swell of his ass in a way that's fucking picturesque, practically art. If it wasn't incredibly socially unacceptable, Yifan would frame a picture of Jongin's bare behind on the wall of his own apartment. As it is, he's got an increasing stash of sexts and dirty pics that suffice for now.

Jongin breaks his reverie with a needy whine, reaching back and grabbing his own cheeks to spread them apart, putting his clenching hole on display and wow Jesus _fuck_ Yifan's dick just sprung to instant rock-hardness in a split-second. "Can you stop d-daydreaming about my ass again and just _fuck_ me already,"

"S-sorry," Yifan says quickly, fumbling for the lube, caught off-guard. In his defense, it's an ass worthy of a museum exhibition and more, but there's not really time for contemplating that when he's got a desperate pretty naked boyfriend laid out and bent over his desk.

Yifan slicks his cock up quickly with the lube (unscented, slippery and watery, their go-to standard) and takes the base in hand, pressing the crown against Jongin's twitching entrance. The sob Jongin lets out when it finally slips in is absolute music to Yifan's ears, each trembling sound he lets out as Yifan sinks in to the hilt sweeter than the last, until the CEO's hips meet the secretary's asscheeks and they're finally fully connected.

There's a brief moment of stillness as they both adjust to the sensation, re-familiarising themselves with each other. Yifan leans forward, pressing the length of his torso flush against Jongin's back, laying a wet kiss over the back of his neck as Jongin lets go of his ass and stuffs his knuckles into his mouth, gnawing desperately, walls fluttering around Yifan's cock stretched and slick and hot and tight, every nerve humming with anticipation.

Yifan finally pulls his hips back, starting up a back-and-forth rhythm with his hips and dragging his cock against Jongin's insides exquisitely slow, letting the tension bleed out of Jongin's shoulders as pleasure fires through his system and makes him sing with lyrical moans, finally getting the friction he's been craving all day. His pitch rises as Yifan's pace ramps up, progressing from deep in his chest to emanating from higher in his throat, abruptly transitioning into a sharp yelp as his boyfriend cants his hips up and brushes against that perfect sweet spot, mingling with Yifan's own low punched-out noises and the wet squelch and slap of lube on flesh.

“Yifa-an,” Jongin moans, voice cracking in two as Yifan thrusts in _hard,_ dragging out another full-body tremor and knocking it through his frame, eyes nearly rolling back in his head. "Mm, hh, fa, faster-"

"We haven't got anything else going on today, do we?" Yifan asks absentmindedly, straightening up and deliberately slowing the motion of his hips into a deep-seated steady roll, frying Jongin's brain with how utterly maddeningly stuffed full he feels.

"Ff-fuck, ah, I think, I think, Mrs. Oh w-wanted, to see you today, but I moved h-her to tomorro-ow, please, plea-ase, faster, Fanfan-"

"Good," Yifan rumbles, pulling back. "No rush to take you apart then."

His hand comes down to slap Jongin's ass hard, in tandem with his hips crashing back into Jongin's body - and god, the muffled wail Jongin lets out, the way he arches and writhes like there's lightning electrifying his spine, how maddeningly tight he squeezes down on his length like every muscle in his body is seizing up - it's addicting, it's the best fucking thing Yifan's ever seen in a plethora of best things Yifan's had with Jongin so far.

"Pretty pretty painslut," Yifan croons, leaning back down and biting at Jongin's bared neck, hips working piston-like, delivering another smack to Jongin's ass and receiving another shaky keen, the secretary's sweaty hands scrabbling at the desk desperately for purchase and finding none. "You feel so good wrapped around my cock, babe, so good for me, so fucking perfect, my perfect perfect Nini-"

The wail Jongin emits in response is barely human, high and honey-sweet and decadent, dripping with mindless need and arousal and a bone-deep primal need, the writhing figure under him rutting his hips back and babbling an unintelligible stream of slurred words and depravity, meeting every thrust with equal force, walls fluttering wildly with each slide in and clinging with every drag out. When Jongin comes undone, he comes un-fucking-done - unravelled, a mere husk of a person, debased and wanton and nothing but a senseless oversensitized greedy mess begging for touch, for cock, for whatever Yifan can give him. Taking taking taking and crying out for more, and who is Yifan to deny him?

His boyfriend's shirt looks just as good as Yifan envisioned, hanging off of him as he bounces on the cock plunging in and out of him, the back pretty much soaked through with sweat and stuck to his flesh, clinging to every curve and plane and shifting gloriously as Jongin squirms, letting out pitchy high whines. Yifan reaches down and starts jerking his poor untouched cock as well, his lube-slicked hand working at the throbbing shaft between Jongin's thighs, Jongin keening and rutting sloppily back and forth between dual sensations, Yifan's cock spearing him open and Yifan's fist tight around his cock.

They're building building building towards the edge, racing towards the precipice of bliss together. There's the telltale quivering in Jongin's shoulders and the warbly undertone creeping into his voice that belies his climax, and Yifan's just as on the brink, his pace dropping off into an unsteady stuttering staccato and his own pleasure spiking, about to plateau.

"Gonna come in you, baby," Yifan coos, guttural, driving his hips in deep, gritting his teeth at the blissful wet heat of Jongin's hole, how his insides practically mold themselves to him, how downright gorgeous Jongin is stretched open and writhing and laid out over Yifan's desk, all his all his all _his_. "Y'wanna get fucked full? Wanna get marked up with my cum so everyone knows you're mine?"

"Yesyesyes pleasepleasepleaseplease _please_ Fan _faaaan_ -" Jongin gasps, craning his neck desperately to look over his shoulder, heaving desperately for air, teary eyes fluttering and blown black, clenching down tight and pulsing around Yifan's shaft. Ruined and wrecked and exquisite. "Comeinsidecomeinsidep _lease_ -"

"Come," Yifan growls, and every fiber in Jongin's body lights up with euphoria as he wails, tumbling off the cliff into orgasm and shaking apart. Yifan drives in deep, burying himself in Jongin's ass one final time, and lets time and space burst and fade away as he shudders through his own climax, holding on desperately to his boyfriend as his cock jerks and pumps him full of come.

He comes back into reality with his forehead pressed against Jongin's quivering shoulder, his limp body pinning Jongin to the desk and his oversensitive flaccid dick still stuffed up his boyfriend's ass. Everything stinks of sweat and sex and the air conditioning is cold as fuck but Jongin's hot and flushed and perfect and he doesn't really want to move at all. Maybe just lie here for a while.

"Yi-f-an," Jongin whispers, trying to move but utterly failing with Yifan a deadweight on top of him. "He-Heavy."

"Sorry," Yifan murmurs, getting back up on shaky legs and gingerly sliding out of Jongin's still pulsing ass, the tip leaving with a wet squelch. He takes a moment to take in the view. Pretty, pretty Jongin, a fucked out, debauched glowing mess atop Yifan’s desk, pink hair wild and drenched with sex, sweat sliding down the golden arch of his neck over blooming red marks and disappearing underneath his ruined shirt. Bare legs trembling, cum and lube seeping out from his gaping hole sliding down his perfect perfect thighs, dripping onto the floor, staining the carpet with white.

“Man, the cleaning lady’s gonna ki-ll you for this one,” Jongin wheezes, cracking a lopsided exhausted grin. Yifan sighs, grabs the wet wipes stashed in his desk drawer, uses it to wipe up the fluids spattered all over Jongin’s limp form.

“You’re the one who wanted to finally play out your filthy desk sex fantasies, you should be taking responsibility. You’re not the one who has to deal with Mrs. Lee’s disappointed glares.”

“Ah, but you’re the one who enabled those fantasies.” Jongin croaks, jerking slightly as Yifan pinches his bruised ass in retaliation, reaching in between his thighs to gently peel off the condom around his dick, neatly tying it and depositing it at the side.

“We are at an impasse,” Yifan snorts. "You're fucking lucky these walls are soundproofed, you know?"

"Why d'you think I was screamin' so loud in the firs' place," Jongin mumbles, squirming a little as Yifan swipes a wet wipe over his hole. "Plug me up, please, it's all leakin' out."

"You're seriously gonna sit with my cum in you all day," Yifan deadpans, even as he reaches for the towel-wrapped sex toy, plucking it out of its cloth wrappings carefully.

"Tha'ss the idea," Jongin slurs, giggling, moaning softly as the blunt metallic head slides easily past his stretched rim and sits snugly nestled between his cheeks, plugging up the come he can feel still inside of him. "All'a the office people can see me goin' around and thirst after my ass, but you 'n I both know it's yours. Plus, y'know, it's fuckin' hot having your cum in me."

"Cumslut," Yifan sighs, throwing the dirtied wipes aside into the trashcan. "Such a cumslut. If you stain your pants don't come crying to me, babe. Do you have a spare shirt?"

"Uh," Jongin says, trailing off. "There's bound to be some spares around? We're a fashion design company, boss."

Yifan tips his head back and groans, sitting back in his chair and gently manhandling his boyfriend's pliant, wrecked form into his lap, tucking his head into the crook of his shoulder. "I'll call Yixing in a sec and get him to find...something. Need a change of clothes for me too." God damn it, Yixing’s never going to let him live this one down.

"Yeah, we're both gross." Jongin chuckles, weakly leans up and plants a sloppy, chaste little kiss on Yifan's cheek, before dropping back down and nuzzling into his neck, smiling. "Thanks for indulgin' me. Love you, Fan."

"Love you too," Yifan grins back, that warm, irrepressible fondness thrumming in his chest, diffusing through all of his tired limbs and overworked nerves, all for the man curled up in his lap. Jongin in his arms, warm and glowing and sated - there's nowhere else Yifan would rather be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"...I'm actually really hungry. When's the wonton noodles coming?"

"They probably left it outside the door. Since, y'know, we locked it to have wild sex."

"Oh, fuck yes-"

"Don't you even _think_ about movin'. Cuddle time."

"But food-"

"Shhhh. 'M love you. Food can wait. Cuddle time now."

"...Love you too, Nini."

 


End file.
